Tag: short story

Kickstarter

Sunday’s dying embers started waning inspite of daylight savings. He switched on his table lamp, mother’s advice ringing in his ears; “don’t work in the dark.”

He sat with a straight back, a stiff neck, rigid arms resting on the keyboard. The laptop remained open, the tiny, bitten apple still alight since seven that morning. Facing him was a white page, the next chapter of his book—the first chapter of his book.

His phone lit up, a notification pushing for attention. His regular coffee shop had a discount: “Midnight orders: 60% off. Jolt your week with a shot of caffeine.”

Measurements

“Your measurements are way off, Susan! At this rate, you’ll soon destroy your life. It’s unhealthy.” Susan had tried—many times—before seeking professional help.

Her consultant peered at her in disbelief. “It’s vital that you follow the guidelines I set you.” Never before had she dealt with someone as changing, as reckless. She had offered step-by-step instructions, and still, Susan couldn’t manage.

“Just because you like sugar, you can’t add more than what the recipe calls for. You can’t become a baker that way—you’ll keep burning more cookies. Go,” she added her face hardening, “measure your ingredients again.”

A reason to follow

“Love! That’s no reason to follow blindly. What if he gets bored with you and pushes you off a precipice or something?”

“He won’t.” Jess replied in earnest. Jason had already defended her once, and she knew he would forever.

On their first encounter, he saved her from a bully. He then went on his way, but she couldn’t. She stood there every day after that, and he smiled at her as he crossed. The simple friendship soon turned serious, and he took her to meet his parents. They refused. They didn’t want their son to bring home dog ticks.

Even odds

“I’m sorry, honey, this isn’t your game. Why don’t you play with your toys, instead?” Stroking his hair, Michael’s mother ushered him inside.

While his six brothers made the school football team, Michael sat in the stands. He couldn’t play because his parents thought him weak. As he sat, his eyes tearing, his ice cream melting, Julia sat beside him. “Why are you upset? If not football, try out for baseball.”

12 years later, Michael entered the pitch to thundering applause. He was no longer the outlier—the child with the bionic leg had proved his parents —and the world—wrong.

Bits of paper

Approaching the counter at the same time, both men gestured the other to go ahead. After a brief hesitance, the shorter took the offer. Middle-aged and suited, he smiled with ease—unperturbed by jet lag. His shoes glossy, walk steady, and stance authoritative, he nodded to the woman who smiled, handing him his US passport.

The taller man was suited, too—a corporate passenger attending an event. He appeared younger than the other, but with shoes as shiny and a walk just as confident. With a curt smile, “Please scan your bag.” the woman said before returning his middle eastern passport.